


After the Ashes

by rosesandmarvelouscaptains



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Genius Shuri (Marvel), Marvel Universe, Meme Lord Shuri (Marvel), Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Quill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandmarvelouscaptains/pseuds/rosesandmarvelouscaptains
Summary: Heroes get remembered. Heroes never die.At least, that's what they'd always told themselves.Before the snap.Now, they've got to deal with their mistakes.Featuring the POV of Steve Rogers, who must manage what's left of the avengers, Peter Quill, who's stuck alone in a barren afterlife with a strange teenager, Shuri, who must cope with the death of her family and take up her brother's title, and Nebula, who's mission is to get off Titian with genius playboy billionaire philanthropist and grieving Tony Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm apologizing in advance for this mess of a fan fiction, as it's obviously the first I've ever written. If you somehow liked it, our have suggestions, or just want to say anything, just type in those comments! Thanks for just viewing this fic, and I hope you enjoy?

Steve Rogers  
The Avengers started with a bang and went out with a whimper. Steve thought it first started in Vienna, when he and Stark both forced each other to draw the battlelines for the war that would split the families of the Avengers apart. Siberia was just the final nail in an already closed casket. But now, in the ruins of a Wakandan forest, silently rubbing his fingers together, just wishing he get him off- he knew that the fallout began the second Nick Fury had interrupted him in a shady poorly lit room in Brooklyn, were Steve was drowning his sorrows with the only way he knew how- war. Steve wasn’t a violent person, hell, that why he was given the serum in the first place, but he didn’t know when to stop. Or to listen. He knew that he had to take down Loki, there was no denying that, but maybe if he had just given Tony a chance. Bruce had mentioned before that Stark, wherever the he was, was set on driving Thanos away, no matter what it took. He said the Titian had been lingering in his brain, taunting him ever since- New York. Tony had known this was coming, sure he didn’t know who, or when, but he knew that there was something on the horizon, and that they, the Avengers, needed some serious preparation. If only they had done something, if Steve had worked with Stark, maybe they have more protection than a sixteen year old girl and a suicidal robot. It was sad, really. Ten years to do something to stop Thanos, and they only tried when the clock was only out. The mind stone was their only chance. He remembered the pathetic fight against Thanos. Whenever Steve fought alone, he worried. That he’d disappoint, and let the fate of thousands slip out of his gloved hands. But when Steve fought with the Avengers, it was like his glory days, like he was back in the army again. With the troops, his friends- his throat tightened, and with Peggy. And Bucky. A hundred odd years ago, he and his friends defended the country, civilians, and had each other’s backs. They were invincible. And Steve wasn’t proud of the bloodshed on his part, but he felt like war, brutal, murderous, horrible war, had given him a family. And he was starting to feel like war had given him a second chance with the Avengers. But this new family wasn’t invincible, because he wasn’t a human, or a trickster, or a robot. He was a god. And don’t gods always win in the end? He knew that those few moments, were the Avengers charged in into battle for the very last time would never really leave his mind. Or his nightmares. They all thought they would win. They knew the odds, and they definitely knew the infinity stones, but Earth was a place were the heroes always won. Sure, maybe they’d lose their friends and some others things along the way, and it’d be a tough fight, but the good guys always win. That’s how the stories go, and that’s how it had gone for all of Steve’s life. Red Skull. HYDRA. Loki. Ultron. They’d prevailed, bloody and beaten, but victorious in the night. They were heroes. But it seemed Thanos had stripped that title, and the safety net of being the successful good guys from them. He had thrown the Hulkbuster, one of Stark’s proudest achievements, like a rag doll. He shoved Natasha Romanovof, the Black Widow, the queen of the Red Room, aside like a child. He wondered how those on Titan had fared. Obviously not well, since he was kneeling in a pile of what used to be Bucky, and Okoye was sobbing over the remains of her king, and the man she admired like a son. Steve could see it in her eyes when she looked at T’Challa. Tony had a similar gleam when he looked at his spider-child at the airport. And then he attacked Steve of course. God, if only Team Tony, as Wanda referred to those who had signed the accords had stayed. Maybe that euphoric feeling of teamwork and invincibly would have stayed. Maybe they could have slayed a titan, or a god. Maybe Bucky and Sam would be standing with him, as they fixed cities side by side just like the aftermath of every other battle. A small part of Steve wants to believe himself, and this fantasy he’s cooked up. But he knows deep down, that reuniting the Avengers wouldn’t have a made a single difference. 

Peter Quill  
Quill was tired. He was lying on the ground after being transported to wherever this was after killing half the universe. His stomach hurt, and his headached just at the thought. Instead of torturing himself with that knowledge, (he was dead right? He’d have all of eternity to think about his universe-costing mistake), Quill just ignored his bitterness and sorrow like everything else in his life. Instead, he’d just lay here and think about, her. If closes his eyes and ignores the rocks stabbing his back and shifts to the left a little, he can imitate the feeling of lying in his bunk, on his ship, with his girl. It’s a Saturday, and he’s got dirt all over him because he and Gamora snuck out last night. Now they’re the only ones still up. In a few hours, the rest of the crew will wake up and Drax will make breakfast, and if Peter tries hard enough, he can imagine that it’s Terran food, straight out of IHop, were his mom would take him all the time before she got sick. Quill imagines a lot, and he supposes that it helps him with the drama of being a half celestial, half human Starlord. The wind blows and howls in his ears, and dust is starting to settle all over him. Quill should probably get up, but he doesn’t want to see what new hellscape he’s landed himself in, he doesn’t want to see the afterlife, he doesn’t want to die, he just wants to go home with Gamora, Rocket, Groot, and the rest of his crew, and he doesn’t want to be the idiot that might have helped kill have the universe, and-  
“Mr. Lord?”  
He awkwardly raises himself up from the ground where he was lying like a moron, and turns to see the first of the people he’s damned.   
“Well, son of a bitch. If it isn’t Spider-Boy.”  
Stark is going to kill him.   
“What are you doing here kid?”, he asks, with a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s killed him. He’s killed a sixteen year old. Someone’s best friends, someone’s son, someone’s-   
He took a deep breath. Let it go. That always seemed to be the motto of his shitty life. Just let it go.   
Spiderling was quiet, for once. For some reason, his silence hurt worse than when Quill first saw him.   
Let it go.   
Spider Dork’s eyes were watering and dull. He looked like was falling apart at the seams. He looked at Peter and then with a sob said, “Where’s Mr. Stark?”  
He swallowed. “He’s alive”. Quill actually had no idea. But he couldn’t, and wouldn’t tell the kid that. Besides, Quill had a feeling that Stark was a lot stronger than he looked. He knew a survivor when he saw one. And Spider Child looked like one too. God, he had to stop calling him that.   
Quill crept over to Spider Nerd and draped his arm around him, giving him an awkward hug. He whispered words of encouragement to the kid. Quill had always been good with children, as proven by the incident a few months ago. Maybe it was because of his own shitty childhood.   
He found himself asking, “What’s your name?”, to the teen, who was longer crying, just staring at the sandy ground beneath his feet.   
He looked up at him. “Peter”.   
The older Peter knew at that exact instant that he was going to let nothing hurt this kid, at least till they got out. 

 

Shuri  
Shuri was hiding in the basement when she first heard the screams. The basement was dark and silent, and Shuri didn’t dare make a noise in case the hideous Hulk wannabe who had attacked her during the middle of her project came back. She felt like a coward. This wasn’t what a princess of Wakanda was supposed to be doing while the rest of her nation died in combat. She should be out there, war paint on her lips and blasters by her sides.She had tried to join the throng of her friends, who were dying for her- but Okoye refused. She had dragged her away and told her, “A dead warrior and princess is no use. You need to be here once this is over. For him.” The Shuri before she had seen an alien ship open up above her homeland would have refused. The Shuri before she saw the fear in both Captain America and her brother’s eyes would have run to the fight. The Shuri before she saw her brother carried of to war yet again, for the third time in months, would have said something. But the world was changing, and T’Challa had placed Wakanda along side it. Shuri would stand with her brother until he died. And Shuri knew from the look in Okoye’s eyes, filled with loss and fear, that this war would take more than it gave. And she could not allow herself to become a casualty. Even though it took everything she had to stay here, in this pathetic hiding place. Even though it went against the morals every Wakandan had for each other.   
So Shuri waited. And waited. She spent the desperate moments trying not to think about her brother fighting some purple god, and Okoye and Nakia risking their lives fighting Thanos’ dogs. She tried not to think about her mother, wherever she was. Feeling sick with worry and guilt, Shuri spent the time trying to remember as many vines as she could, and thinking of memes she had been showing T’Challa last week. Before a titan had shown up at their doorstep and forced his way in her home.   
She wondered what her father would being doing right now. Probably fighting alongside his son. Definitely not hiding in some creepy ass-  
Someone screamed.   
Shuri was positive for as long as she lived, she would never forget the sound of complete and utter terror. She was positive for as long as she lived, she would never forget the painful, burning recognition that shot through her veins. She was positive that she would never forget the ache in her legs and she threw open the door and ran. She was positive that she would never forget speeding through the hallways. She was positive that she would never forget the songs that echoed from the same woman that had screamed before.   
And Shuri was 100% certain that she would never be able to drive the image of the queen of Wakanda, her mother, kneeling on the ground, crying in terror.   
Dissolving into dust.  
Shuri threw herself towards her mother, desperate to do something, anything to help. To make it stop.   
She hit the cold, hard ground.   
Kneeling in a pile of ashes. 

Nebula  
She was going to kill her father. Sure, Nebula coldly stated the fact to everyone she’s ever met at anytime of day, but this… This type of loss was unimaginable. And is was her father, Thanos’ fault. She hated it when Nebula called him her father. She would always remind her that Thanos was a madman, a psychopath, not worthy of her love and that name. She was always so kind, even Nebula was trying to beat the crap out of her. She would always give Nebula a smile so warm it was like being back on her homeplanet, with the sunny rays beating down on her. But Gamora, as lovely as she was, would never fully understand. That Nebula wanted to be the daughter of Thanos.   
Gamora got as far away from the title as possible, always excluding herself from Thanos. If anyone even had the nerve to bring up the names Gamora and Thanos together, they were a dead man walking.   
But Nebula relished the power that came with his name. When she walked into a bar, alone, she strangely adored the curiosity that came with her name, and the fear even more. She was no longer just a machine, her throat tightened, in the background. She was powerful, she was dangerous, and she was not to be messed with. Ever again.  
That was the few gifts Thanos gave her.  
The other was Gamora.   
The thing she admired most about her sister, and hated the most too, was that she was simply better than Nebula in every single way. Gamora was always kind, even though she was the favorite daughter of quite possibly the cruelest man in the galaxy. Most people saw a pathetic excuse of a daughter, more machine than woman, but Gamora dug until she found a sister. And she was just so just, and could let go of everything that Thanos had taught and preached, just like that. Because it was as she always said, the right thing to do.   
Nebula didn’t let go that easily.   
She knew Thanos was a madman, but he was, in a way, always going to be her father.  
At least until he was dead.   
A cry from a shell of a man pulled Nebula from her silent, scheming rage. It was the man of iron. Apparently, after coming face to face with death, he wasn’t so iron like.   
Nebula had gotten used to meeting with death.  
Stark was hunched over, kneeling with of pile of- what used to be his son, nebula realised. How many families did Thanos just tear apart?  
She leaves him with what remains of his kid. She needs to do something. For her sister.   
She passes where Mantis had stood, beaming with childlike excitement, only an hour before. Nebula doesn’t look. Mantis was always her favourite of the Guardians, although probably the most inquisitive. Still, the bug like girl reminds- reminded, Nebula thinks with a pang, of herself. Before Thanos destroyed her, of course. Necula was young back then, so she doesn’t remember much, but she’s certain she would have been best friends with Mantis.   
She reaches the spot where the man who had called himself Star Lord once stood.   
Nebula had always thought of the man as immature, and a little annoying. She still had no idea to this day how he managed to make the most dangerous woman in the galaxy fall head over heels in love with him. It was funny how little he realized how much Gamora loved him though. Nebula witnessed it first hand when she was stuck on the Milanio with them during the incident.   
That didn’t mean that she didn’t respect Quill.   
Gamora had told Nebula about the man, his life story, and all of the horrors that his young eyes had seen. Nebula always respected someone who somehow seemed to keep their charm and personality and themselves after they walked through hell. It was also apart of the reason she loved Gamora so much.   
She sat down.   
And Nebula talked.   
She talked about stories of growing up with Gamora, of sparring with her, braiding her hair in the war room, of having secret of sleepover with her and learning to love her, as a sister. She told Quill about how much Gamora loved him, and about how much Gamora loved Quill. She told him about the respect he had earned from her when he had had the audacity to attack Thanos, when he heard about her death.   
“It shows courage”, she muttered, still convinced that this was awkward, and foolish. But Gamora had done it after any sibling of there's, a child of Thanos died. And she knew that Gamora would want someone to be grieving Peter. Even if it was just Nebula.  
“It shows how much you really loved her.”  
She gets up.   
She’s paid her respects, done what Gamora would have wanted to be done. She nudges the man of iron, who only looks briefly looks up from his sorrow. She refuses to believe that this is the end of her- their saga.   
She remember what Thanos told her right before he tortured Nebula by replacing her with disgusting machine parts. “Everyone has a weakness, a downfall an undoing.” He had smiled.  
Well, that means that even a titan with all six infinity stones has a downfall.   
“Get up”, Nebula says to Stark. “We’ve got some ass to kick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill's getting along well with his new teenage friend, when fate plays yet another trick on them.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, back for round 2 with my favorite parent/kid mcu relationship that hasn't happened yet, the Peters! Alright, so I followed some fellow writer's advice and doubled spaced between the paragraphs. I know this chapter is kind of short, and everything happens super quickly, I'm horrible at descriptions and writing in length, if you have any tips for that lemme know, but here's Chapter 2! Lemme know what you think!

The sky is cooper and tinged with dust. It makes it hard to breathe, so Quill pulls out the device always tucked carefully under his ear, gives it a click, and gives his Starlord helmet to Peter. The universal technology within the mask should make it easier to for the kid to breathe. Quill ignores the painful reality that they’re already dead, and that some toxic air can’t hurt them. Still, it’s worth it to see the kid’s face light up when Quill presents him with his foreign piece of technology. His eyes get a gleam that seem to glaze over the sense of loss and sadness in his brown eyes, at least for a few minutes.

He won’t stop asking questions. Quill knows that he’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but the words coming out of Peter’s mouth make him feel, well, stupid. He’s asking about the magnetic fields in space and how they affect his ship, the Milano. Quill doesn’t even know what a magnetic field is, and it’s been so long since he’s visited Earth, that he’s starting to forget what a magnet is. He tries to answer the kid’s nerdy questions to best of ability, but it soon becomes clear to Peter that Quill has no idea what he’s talking about.

He still likes the kid though. 

They’ve been wandering around the afterlife, that’s what Peter had nervously called it at first, for fifteen minutes, when he asks Quill a question.

“Who’s Gamora?”

His chest tightens and Quill feels his eyes start to water. Of all the questions the kid could have asked…

At seeing his sadness to his curiosity, Peter shuffles his feet, and with guilt in his eyes says, “I’m sorry Mr. Lord. don’t answer”.

The kid’s overly polite, when there’s no one to be polite too. Quill doesn’t deserve the kid’s respect, and his timidness reminds him a little too much of himself as a child. So he quietly tells the kid, “It’s Peter. Peter Quill. A.k.a Starlord”. Because he can never get enough of his badass superhero name and wants everyone to know it, even the kid. 

He thinks he hears Peter let out a soft, “Holy shit”, when he tells him his name. Quill’s suspicions are confirmed when he glanced over at Peter, whose eyes are bright, for the first time in a while, and his mouth is hanging wide open. 

“You’re the missing country hick kid!”

Quill felt his mouth go dry. Some nights, when it was just him and an empty sky and no distractions to cling to, he thought of Earth. Thought of everything he’d left behind. Thought of how his family was doing. Wondered if they were still looking for him. But Quill didn’t care anymore, right? He’d left that life behind 26 years ago. The Quills had probably adjusted, he’d just figured that it’d cause more harm than good to come crashing back into their lives again. What would he even say? Hi, it’s me, Peter, I’ve been in space for twenty years because some alien pirates kidnapped me, anyways, how are you guys doing? Oh, and here’s my girlfriend Gamora!

It just wasn’t meant to be right now. And Quill was fine with that. 

Maybe one day he’d come up with the perfect excuse. 

Swallowing his pride, he turns to Peter and asks him, “How’d you know?”

The kid responds quickly, in fact so fast that Quill can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“So every Sunday night me and Aunt May, that’s my Aunt, you’d like her, she has a crappy taste in movies too, we go to Jack in the Box, that’s a new place, and we get burgers and their mini churros, we should get some when Mr. Stark saves us, and we watch this Dateline show on our couch, and we eat, and uh, oh yeah, they had this mini series on you like uh one or two years ago?”

He can barely believe it. 

“Okay, first of all, I’ve had Jack in the Box. I went there all the time with my mo- uh family. Second of all, what? The hell is Dateline?”

“It’s a mystery show, about crimes, murders, uh disappearances.” 

Quill takes a second to process it. It makes some sort of sense, of course everyone would freak out over a missing kid. His grandfather had probably called the police as soon as he noticed he was missing. Peter can sense his discomfort, so he adds, “They looked for you for a really long time.”

“I know”, Quill says with an awkward grin. This is great. Not even a, (day? It felt like a day), in, and the spiderling was diving into some pretty personal stuff. Not that Quill didn’t mind. It was nice to talk to somebody besides a friggin talking raccoon. 

“So”, he says, awkwardly lowering himself to the around and sitting down in an unnatural position. “That’s enough walking for now. What else have I missed in the world of pop culture besides Dateline?”

-

Quill feels like he’s going to pass out. His heart is racing, he can barely breathe, but he finds the strength to yell,

“SEVEN STAR WARS MOVIES?”

He’d missed seven Star Wars movies. Maybe it was time to give Earth another visit. 

“Launch into a detailed description of each one. Everything you can remember. Go.”

Peter’s just started to describe the plot of the Phantom Menace, he can’t believe that they made one about Darth Vader, and at the moment he’s interrupting probably the second most important conversation of Quill’s life to tell him about how he owns a Death Star out of legos, when Quill trips. 

It’s not graceful at all, and he goes flying, and hits his chin and one of the random blenheim rocks that are just randomly everywhere. If Rocket were here, he’d make some inappropriate joke. The realisation hurts more than the surprising pain that shoots through his face.

He raises his hand to his cheek, and finds blood. Well, that sucks. Apparently you can still get hurt in the afterlife. 

He turns to the kid. He’s about to tell him that’s he’s fine, and to just continue on with the story. But he looks like he’s seen a ghost. He touches his own face, which is covered in blood. 

And Quill notices a gash on the bottom of his chin.

It looks like he got it from tripping.

“What the hell, man?”, he says. And then falls quiet. 

And then vanishes. 

-  
Quill’s never been more confused in his life. One second, Peter was here, and the next he was just… gone. He calls his name for hours, with no avail. Each minute, his fears and suspicions get worse. Someone took him. He died somehow while being dead. Thanos is in the afterlife. The last one sounded especially stupid, but knowing the power of the gauntlet, and knowing how truly psychotic Thanos was from stories told by Gamora, and even worse, Nebula, Quill wouldn’t put it past him. 

He’s been on his feet for twelve hours when he finally gives up. Wherever the kid is, it’s not here. 

He feels tears prick his eyes. Not only had he let down the entire universe, and his team, by screwing up, when just one kid needed him, Quill yet again had let him down. He hangs his head. He wishes, for nothing more than to feel Gamora’s arms around him, one last time. To feel her hair brushing against his face as she embraces him. To grasp her calloused, worn down, yet beautiful hands. To see her smile, so vibrant, despite all of the horrors she had faced. To see her amber eyes sparkle, as she told him what he needed to hear. That it wasn’t his fault.

But all he gets is a single memory. 

Smoke. Fire. Rubble.   
The soft, almost beautiful in a way, glow of the reality stone. The ugly remains of his teammates, twisted by that same stone. And one, crooked mad titan, with Gamora in his grasp. 

It’s her eyes that he can’t forget. Absolutely ruined, but still with hope lingering in them. Hope that he could end this. 

Of course, he failed her like he failed everyone else.

“You promised!”

He keeps telling himself that she should have gone right. Like that would have changed anything. He knows it’s all his fault, but it’s a comfort in a way. 

He pulls something out of his leather coat. It’s the broken hilt of a sword. Ironic, that it’s only thing that he has left of her.

He gives it a soft kiss, and mumbles something to it. Something about love, and the evil he’d done. He couldn’t remember, because at that moment, he swore that he could feel her, some beautiful essense of her, standing besides him. 

He can feel her hand brushing his cheek, and can hear the linger of a whisper.

“Right.”

He’s walking along side her again, hand in hand. Only he can’t see her, but he knows she’s there, in some strange poetic yet heartbreaking way. With him, just like she’s been for the past four years of his life. 

A left bend around a pile of crushed, jagged, red rocks. It’s getting late. Dust is blowing in his eyes, and Quill is freezing his ass off. 

He keeps going. 

He walks straight ahead for a while. He clicks open his leather front pocket and tucks the headphone’s in his ears. His precious Zune. Quill was sure that he would have 100% lost it if he didn’t have his music. Odd that it came with him, but Quill could care less. It’s all he needs to keep his eyes on the bloodied red hills. 

This isn’t what he pictured the afterlife looking like. 

For starters, there’s no singing angles, or shinning gates, he’s not in some glorious, clouded sky. Death only consists of sand, rock, hills, and for some reason, Peter Parker. Shit, he’s got to find that kid. 

He can’t feel Gamora anymore, but he feels like he knows the way to go know. His feet are moving automatically now, and he can longer feel the painful ache in his feet. The cold is numbing out. Right, left, straight, left-

At first he thinks thinks it’s another one of those weird sand dunes, and shurgs it off, but then he sees a hint of gold, and then the kids hair ruffling in the wind. 

Shit. 

Quill sprints, harder than he ever has before, and slides next to the kid. He flips him over. 

Peter is limp. He’s also for some reason, soaking wet. He presses his ear to the kid’s chest. 

He’s not breathing. 

“Son of a bitch”, Quill growls, and starts pressing. CPR. Up down, up down. 

He can’t fail this kid. Not like his mom, not like Gamora.

Up down up down up- 

He’s revived with a gasp, and spits water out of his mouth. He heaves, and clings to Quill for dear life. 

He just holds Peter. 

And then, the kid sputters a bit, and Quill calms him down and brushed the mangly hair out of his eyes and gives him his coat, and then the kid’s scared and youthful eyes stare at him like he’s never seen him before, and then Peter sputters out, 

“I know how we can save your girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That came out a lot more angstier than it needed to be. Sorry the plot was so rushed and messy. Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> So what'd you think? Hit up those comments! I love writing in Shuri's view so much, (probably because of what a wonderful memelord/genius she is), and I'm a sucker for any fic with the Peters. I just want Quill to be an awkward uncle to Spidey, (is that too much too ask?) Anyways, less angst in the next chapter, expect maybe for poor Steve. Sorry it's so short! It will get longer, I promise!


End file.
